


In Thirty Minutes or Less

by ironicpatriot



Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: ALL THE FLUFF, Delivery Boy!Vernon, F/M, Fluff, Harry Styles is a Minor Character because my friend used to be in love with him and this was for her, Hysterical!Reader, Open Ending, Romance, Vernon's lowkey creepy here but he's a sweetheart
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-06
Updated: 2016-12-06
Packaged: 2018-09-06 22:44:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,300
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8772358
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ironicpatriot/pseuds/ironicpatriot
Summary: “Can you, um,” Take the plunge, Y/N, you deserve to be happy. “Can you send your cutest delivery guy?”There’s a pause.Oh, you’re being judged, you can just feel it.“Noted.” he says, and once you finish giving them the address of your dorm and the amount you’re going to pay, you hear a scuffle in the background and muffled shouting. Before you could comment—because are they really talking about a customer that could literally hear them—the man cuts you off, “We’ll have the pizza there in thirty minutes, any longer and it’ll be free. Have a pleasant evening!”





	

**Author's Note:**

> Same person I made the other imagine for. She's obviously a Hansol stan.

“Harry!" This has been happening continuously, you're getting sick of it. If he forgets another date one more time... "You can’t just keep ignoring me for the sake of your music, that’s not what a relationship is.”

“We’ve been over this. I'm sorry, okay? You know how busy I am."

"A text would have been nice." Tears prick your eyes but you fight to keep your voice from shaking. "Do you even love me at all?"

He sighs as if you were unreasonable and your cheeks go hot with anger. "You're not even listening to me."

"You've been using the same explanation every time you blow me off!" you huff, and the neglect stings. He's not even trying to placate your worries. "You know what? This isn't... I can't do this anymore."

"What--"

Your throat closes up in protest, but you force it all out, "Maybe we should end this. I--I can't love someone who obviously doesn't love me enough to even try."

You hang up and weigh the merits of throwing your phone at the wall. On the one hand, it’s a good way to release your rage and maybe it would stop the tremors that have crawled up your hands and onto your shoulders. One the other hand, broken phone. That meant money.

You sigh, clutching your phone harder as you wipe away your own tears. It was date night too, you thought mournfully.

Pulling your hair out of the neat ponytail you had it in, you change your dress and flats for the comfiest pajamas you owned and you’ve become determined to buy comfort food. If you can’t have a good relationship, then the world owed you one night of wallowing and pigging out.

Now, pizza or burgers?

You sniffle a little at the thought, remembering how _he_ would help you choose. Shaking your head, you huff a little. He was a controlling jerk and you didn’t need that kind of negativity in your life.

“Good evening,” the cheerful voice chirps. You twitch in annoyance, this person’s too happy for you after what you’ve been through, but you tamp the irritation down. Be a nice person, you chant to yourself. “This is Pledis’ Pizza, what’s your order?”

“One large four cheese pizza please.” you say in a clear voice.

“Ah.” the person goes, “Is this for a party? Pledis’ Pizza now offers a bundle that has two pizzas of your choice, a bucket of chicken, and a—“ but you cut him off because um, no.

“Oh no, it’s just for me.” you say hurriedly before frantically explaining, “I just needed a pick-me-up and I was planning on eating the leftovers for a few nights.”

“Ah, I see. I’m sorry for intruding.” the person says politely.

“Any drinks to go with that, ma’am?” he asks, and you decline the offer. Just because you’re in a slump doesn’t mean you’d resort to carbonated drinks. “Anything else?”

You take a moment to think about it, remembering a certain post a friend sent you. Should you be embarrassed to even think about requesting this? Ah, you just got your heart broken, whatever. It’s not like anyone’s gonna get jealous if you look at other men.

“Can you, um,” Take the plunge, Y/N, you deserve to be happy. “Can you send your cutest delivery guy?”

There’s a pause.

Oh, you’re being judged, you can just feel it.

“Noted.” he says, and once you finish giving them the address of your dorm and the amount you’re going to pay, you hear a scuffle in the background and muffled shouting. Before you could comment—because are they really talking about a customer that could literally hear them—the man cuts you off, “We’ll have the pizza there in thirty minutes, any longer and it’ll be free. Have a pleasant evening!”

* * *

 

“Why won’t you just _love and accept_ him?” you hiss at your television, irrationally convinced that the girl was doing everything wrong. Normally, you would agree with her and understand her character’s point of view, but today’s events were affecting your judgment. Plus, you just don’t say no to Song Joong-Ki.

You sniffle a little, tearing up at the scene. The familiar OST caressing your ears as you shove another spoonful of ice cream in your mouth.

At the ring of the doorbell, you spring up from your bed. You were just about finish an episode of _Descendants of the Sun,_ with a tub of ice cream in your hand and a spoon in your mouth.

“Coming!” you shout around the spoon in your mouth, patting your hair down as you set your ice cream down on the way to the door. You grab your wallet from the table and practically sprint to the door, ice cream still vaguely smeared on the corners of your mouth.

Once you open the door, you freeze in horror.

The guy in front of you must be one of the cutest guys you’ve seen in the longest time. He looks white, which wasn’t a surprise given where you lived, but he also seems to be half Asian. He smiles awkwardly from the door and offers you the pizza box. “Pizza delivery for Y/N?”

He’s so cute.

But the worst part is that he kind of looks like your ex. Suddenly, your feelings boil in irritation and longing. Thoughts of him swamp your head and you’re ready to fling the precious box of pizza into his face. The longer you looked at him, the longer you saw Harry’s dimples and curls.

“Uh, that’ll be 5.99.” he says, as if the cashier didn’t already tell you the price. He seems to be determined to look at the floor, but the way his eyebrows furrow implies that he’s not used to women. Which is both endearing and adorable.

When you hand him the money, he bows a little and smiles at you. The image leaves a lasting idea that you’re probably gonna be alone forever and this will mark the last time you ever go anywhere near a man that could hurt you like Harry did. The thought leaves you tearing up and shuffling on the spot, making you bow your head a little so your fringe could hide more of your face than usual.

Just as you were about to turn around and close the door behind you, he quietly clears his throat. “Um, ma’am?” he says, “Are you okay?”

His sincere eyes paired with his overall appearance makes you so angry but all you do is shake your head. “Don’t mind me. Have a good evening.”

“Are you sure, ma’am?”

“Yes, _I’m pretty sure.”_ you say through gritted teeth. If he asks one more time…

“Ma’am—”

“Oh my god, what is it with you _men_ and forcing yourself into situations?” you burst out, convinced that the world was out to get you. He takes a step back in shock, unprepared for an outburst like that, “Just because you’re handsome _doesn’t mean_ you can just butt into a situation and make things better. If ANYTHING you might make it worse.”

“Um, ma’am—”

“Shut up,” you say irrationally, vision blurred with the image of your ex, ready to just slam the door in his face, but you’re shaking and moving sounded horrible at the moment. You pause for second, feeling disgusting for shouting at a stranger. “Wow, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scream at you.”

He looks worried, probably since you look ready to cry, but he nods in understanding.

“I’ve had a bad night and I just broke up with my boyfriend. Ex-boyfriend.” you take in a shuddering breath, the look in his eyes sympathetic but free of any judgment. You’re gonna regret it, but you decide to let it out. At least if a stranger judged you, you have the choice to never talk to them ever again.  “And my exams just finished today and my friends are too busy to talk to me, my parents are on edge, my roommate’s out of town, and my life is a mess. Ugh.”

You’re practically limp by now, and your conversation from earlier hits you like truck. You sniffle in anger and almost let go of the pizza in your hand, but in your moment of weakness, the delivery guy—or Hansol if his nametag is anything to go by—snatches it from your hands and tentatively comes closer.

“Can I hug you?” he asks quietly, looking like he was trying to calm a lion down. “Can I come in?”

You contemplate shoving his face into the pizza and leaving him outside your dorm, but this day’s been exhausting and the world’s been cruel. He’s a stranger, and despite his concerned stare and handsome face, you shouldn’t trust him. But there’s a puppy-like aura around him, one that says he wouldn’t try anything weird, and for some reason your instincts telll you that that’s enough.

So you nod miserably, letting him hug you as you enter your dorm together with him setting the pizza down on the table and putting you on the couch.

“I don’t really know you,” he mumbles softly, and you snort in response, sniffling a little, “—but I do know how bad days work. And they never last long. I hope you know this and stay strong.”

Your heart aches, because why can’t Harry be as understanding as this guy? You wipe at your nose, self-conscious in front of a cute guy. Well, it’s not like you can destroy his image of you any more than you already have.

He pats your head tenderly, almost as if he’s used to the motion and doesn’t realize he’s doing it, and stands up awkwardly. You stare up at him in confusion, wondering what he’s going to do. He shuffles in place for a second, and looks at the pizza on the table.

“Do you want some tea or coffee or anything? I used to be a barista at some point.”

You shake your head miserably, feeling like the weight of the world was on your shoulders. “I don’t drink coffee or tea.” He opens his mouth and you cut him off, “I don’t drink alcohol or soda either if that’s what you’re thinking.”

He deflates visibly, biting his lip. “So what _do_ you drink?”

“Uh,” you wince, frantically thinking of a drink, “Water? Iced tea? Oh! Mango shake.”

He snorts a little at the last one but nods resolutely, “Iced tea it is. I’ll heat this up too.” he adds, grabbing the pizza on the coffee table and walking towards your open kitchen.

“It’s a good thing all I have in this dorm are kdrama DVDs and textbooks or I’d be worried about you trying to steal something.” you say out loud to him, hearing him laugh at the thought.

“I have an unhealthy obsession with kdramas, so you better hide those before I get to them,” he jokes. You hear the sound of a marker, but you ignore it. He’s probably writing something into your reciept or something. You’re too tired to think about it.

You blink at your phone for a few seconds, eyes heavy. Before you knew it, your head was on a pillow and someone was gently nudging you awake. “Y/N? Y/N, wake up. I heated your pizza up for you and made you some iced tea. I’m not sure how you like your iced tea so I kinda winged it.”

Did God finally take your request to die seriously? You squint slightly, brain fuzzy. Are you an angel, you think questioningly. Your lips won’t cooperate, but he laughs deprecatingly as if he heard you. He slowly hands you a glass of iced tea and keeps an eye on you, as if he was expecting you to drop your drink into your lap in favor of going back to sleep.

Instead, you blink blearily at him, taking a sip of the iced tea. It’s a little too sweet for your taste, but since he made the effort to make it, you don’t comment.

He rubs at his neck, “Um, I put your leftover pizza in the refrigerator.”

Glancing at the clock, he startles, “Oh shi--I have to get back to work. I hope you feel better after this. Remember what I said about the bad days, okay? Life’s full of them but life will never just be bad days.” he winks at you, which gets you blinking in shock--he was so careful around you that the flirtation gesture was too much too fast--and with that he stands up. He puts his cap carefully back on and salutes you on the way out.

You gape at the door, convinced that you might have just imagined what happened. Despite the ache in your bones, you stand up and walk around the entire dorm, checking your things to make sure they’re there. That strange man could not have just walked into your apartment to comfort you, feed you, and then leave. That does not happen in real life, nor does it ever happen _to you._

Then the despair kicks in. A beautiful man just walked into your life for barely a few hours and left, all without any ulterior motives. Why the hell did you let him go so quickly? You don’t even know his last name, you think in horror, how are you going to _Facebook_ stalk him? You feel like crying again. You just lost your chance.

Finishing your pizza quickly, you sniffle, deciding that you definitely deserve more than one pizza. When you open the pizza box, you almost drop it in shock. Written on the box, in clear black strokes: _XXX XXXX call me when your days get brighter. Or even when they don’t. ;)_

**Author's Note:**

> STILL CRINGING.


End file.
